Burn
by stephtron312
Summary: "No," she repeated, "You can't fix me. I'll just burn you." Dealing with the aftermath of Atlanta, the group begins their trek towards Virginia, but every bump in the road leaves a mark.
1. Chapter 1

_Just be warned, I may never go passed the 11 chapters I already have finished making this a permanent WIP. But I had a lot of feelings after the MSF and this was written directly after. I just kind of ran out of steam, but I hope you enjoy what I did manage to get out! I'll post a chapter a day :D Thanks for reading!_

_Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Robert Kirkman, AMC and other affiliates except for the huge amount angst they give me. That's alllll mine._

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Carol sat in the back of the van, head leaning against the cool metal, eyes closed. Every point of her body ached, and it made her think back to Jim after he was bit, saying how his bones felt like glass. They had been traveling for hours all stuffed in this van and every jostle sent screams through her. But she kept quiet, tried to keep her face steady as to not alarm anyone, especially when they were all hurting from a different kind of pain.

They buried Beth just outside of Atlanta, amongst a field of beautiful white and pink flowers. Father Gabriel spoke and it made everything seem so much more official and real than any other they had to bury. The sobs that racked their bodies were powerful, that even those in their group that never met her felt the unwavering sadness. Silently they all loaded back into that van, Abraham at the helm, and continued on.

It would be dusk soon and Rick wanted to gather supplies, and maybe find a spot to sleep for the night. He and Tyreese had insisted that Carol stay put in the van. She certainly wasn't fooling anyone that she was fine. Her eyes opened at the sudden shake of the van and watched as Daryl sat on the edge, trying to control his movements as much as possible. He sat at her feet, his legs hanging out the open doors. Gingerly he laid a hand on her ankle.

"There was nothin' to hunt," he offered after a few moments. He had bolted out of that van as soon as they had parked, under the guise of a hunt. She knew though how the stifling the quiet sobs felt. How overwhelming the proximity of the group was. He needed his time to be alone, to mourn, to try and let go at his own pace.

Carol responded with a grimace as she tried, but failed, to shift her body. She could feel her back beginning to stiffen against the hard surface.

"Ya okay?" he asked, all the care and gentleness in the world. She smiled slightly. He retreated back into himself, looking across the field they were parked at the edge of.

"Remember before…when you asked why I didn't ask you 'bout the girls? And I said it was cause I already knew what happened, that they weren't here. And then you said that it was worse then that?" he glanced over at her.

She nodded, "Yeah."

He looked back at his hands, "How? How could anything be worse than…than _this_?"

Carol swallowed. Maybe on that day she could have told him. If he had asked then as they stared down at the Atlanta skyline, the smallest flame of hope within her, she probably could have done it. But not now. Not when he was like this, a hollowed shell trying with all his might to regain a purpose. Not when he was holding onto her with all his might, like she was the last thing he could keep a grasp on. As if she slipped away too, then he'd have nothing.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Tyreese. He had been so supportive of her, in so many ways, since they had been reunited at Grady. As far as she knew, he still stood on his pact to not mention the girls, especially so after Beth. He didn't need to be reminded of that heartache.

She looked back at Daryl to find he was already staring at her. She tried to shrug her shoulders, but all she could manage was the slightest lift of her left side.

"…Just was."

He didn't understand but he couldn't push her. She was already beyond her limits, and he knew how much care and effort she was pouring into him. Instead of concentrating on herself and healing up, every moment she could spare was on him. He tried to reciprocate, but he just couldn't do it. Not yet.

Rummaging through the black duffle bag on his right side he pulled out a small pill bottle. The doctor was nice enough to give them some painkillers along with Carol's knife and rifle.

"C'mon, you should take one of these. It's been a long time and you look like shit," he reached towards her but Carol swatted him away.

"I'm fine."

"Carol," he said her name in a whisper.

"They make me drowsy. I'll fall asleep here and then someone's going to be stuck in this shit box with me all night," The pain was making her all types of agitated and coming out of her in snippy remarks. She tried her best to rein them in but when people tried to dote on her they came out in waves.

"I'm sure I, or Tyreese, or Abraham, hell even Michonne could carry you to wherever we're setting up camp if you do fall asleep," he kept his voice level, knowing that it was her discomfort making her so aggressive.

She closed her eyes, "No." The van began jostling again and the distortion in her face was getting harder to control. She felt him beside her, leaning agonizingly close.

"Please," he said, pressing two small pills to her lips, "just open your mouth."

Re-opening her eyes, she glared at him, but obliged. He slid the pills in and held up his canteen to her mouth. She took two small gulps, as the uncoated chalky taste filled her tongue. Swallowing with effort she began to breathe deeply. On an empty stomach these painkillers were more than prone to cause nausea. It was just another discomfort to add to her growing list.

He sat back against the van, watching her intently. Her eyes were screwed shut tightly and he listened to the deepening of her breaths. It ate him alive how much pain she was in, but watching her deal with it so openly and bravely, helped him. If she was still able to fight with such earnest then surely he had to as well. He placed his fingers against her palm, and felt her hand close tightly around them. Maybe he couldn't soothe her heart right now, with his so damaged, but he could do his best to make sure she started healing. When her breathing softened and he saw her chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm he knew she had fallen asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks for reading! Here's chapter 2 :)_

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"You killed her! It's the same thing! It's the same thing!"

The echoes of Lizzie slumped on the ground rang through her as Carol flinched awake. Above her was the clear Georgia sky. Crunching leaves shifted beneath her as she struggled to sit up. Her eyes adjusted to the soft orange glow of the campfire, burning away the last flashes of the phantom.

Abraham turned from his post as she got to her feet, "What is it? You need something?"

"Can't sleep," she answered, standing next to the log he was seated on, "You might as well try to. I can keep watch."

He huffed, "Won't do me no good. Ain't no sweet dreams waiting for me."

"Yeah," she agreed, gritting her teeth as she lowered herself to sit beside him.

They stared out into the nothingness before them. The small clearing they had settled into was surrounded with dense forest. Sounds of crickets and the dying embers enveloped their silence. A whimper emitted from Tyreese and the pair looked over as his body twitched in a nightmare.

"There a point to this anymore?" Abraham said.

She knew the question wasn't really for her, but she answered with a shrug, "Was there ever?"

"We were going to save the world. Get it all back to normal," he chided, unbelieving that she would suggest that their mission, despite its fallacy, wasn't the ultimate path for them to travel on.

Her eyes narrowed as her head shook in the dark. "Is that what we really want? To put it all back to the way it was?" she scoffed, "That world brought us here…to this."

"Then the hell are we fighting for?" Abraham searched her, clinging with need of a purpose, any purpose to move forward with.

"I don't know," she admitted, watching as a leaf kicked up from Tyreese's jerks fluttered into the flames, "Just trying to keep one step ahead of the fire, I suppose."

"That little girl didn't deserve it," he said.

Lizzie, slumped on the ground, seamlessly morphed to Mika's still body and Beth lying on the tiled floor, blood pooling beneath them. Sophia's jaunty walk as she growled in front of the barn. "Which one?" she whispered.

Dawn rose between the breaks in the trees, causing the first wave of stirs within the camp. Carol watched, while she absently toyed with her knuckle buster.

Sasha was up first, moving away from her position against Tyreese's back. She gave Carol a smile before stretching upwards. Rick was next, springing to his feet and eyeing each member of the group before scooping up Judith in his arms from her cradled spot beside him.

Daryl awoke with such fluidity that was always impressive to watch. His eyes opened fully, without any drowsy hesitant blinking. He had turned immediately to his left, where Carol had been sleeping, and his eyes widened in a muted panic as his hand reached out to the now empty spot. He felt around the leaves as if she might have gotten sucked through to a hidden world. It wasn't until Rick whistled for his attention that he looked up. Rick nodded his head towards Carol's seated position and Daryl's eyes fixed on her interrogatively. He was to his feet, crossbow strapped to his back, and walking towards her before she could even lift her fingers to wave.

"Thought Abraham was on watch," Daryl said, glaring down at the redhead's sleeping form as he snored into Rosita's back.

"He was, until about twenty minutes ago."

Suddenly Daryl was reaching out to her, touching the spot where her jaw and ear met, gingerly running his knuckles down the side of her neck, trailing to the top of the harsh bruise below her collar. She shuddered, unsure if she'd ever get used to this newfound need to secure himself to her through such palpable ways.

"You okay?" he asked.

She squinted up at him, the morning sun spilling in from behind him, "I'm getting there."

"C'mon," he held a hand out to her, "You can stretch your legs while I hunt." Carol accepted, letting him pull her up and they stepped further into the woods.

She limped in quiet, slow circles while Daryl crouched low, aiming for a fatty raccoon in the distance. The length of her body, from her left shoulder to her hip, shuddered. Frustration flaring with each shattering step, Carol could hardly remember the last time she felt so broken and vulnerable.

"Why don't you take a rest?" Daryl suggested taking his eyes off the game for a second to glance back at her.

Carol put an arm up against a tree, leaning her forehead to the back of her hand, shifting her weight entirely to her right side. That half of her wasn't faring much better, with her shoulder possibly fractured from falling off the bridge. The situation was so ridiculous that she would laugh about it, if her ribs didn't feel like they were going to puncture right through her. She closed her eyes and listened to the plunk of the bolt driving into the animal. She waited for the sound of Daryl's feet rustling in the leaves as he went to retrieve their breakfast, but instead his strangled snivel cut through the still air.

Turning too abruptly, Carol let out a small yelp, before pushing off the tree towards him. "Hey," she spoke softly, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"I tried to teach her how to use it," his sob had half turned into a chuckle as he nudged at his crossbow, "She was pretty awful."

Carol squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, "I tried to get Mika to hunt a deer, but she didn't want to go through with it." Daryl brought his hand up, covering Carol's fingers with his own when he heard the smile of her voice waver. He held onto her as he stood and turned into her. She let her hand drop to his chest.

"We did right by them. We tried," he said, watching the dark look that cast on her face, her eyes searching for something that was long gone.

"We tried," he repeated as he backed away to retrieve his kill. She stood still, fists clenched, willing the flood to wash over her so she could take her next steps without breaking. When he reached her, the bloodied raccoon dripping in his hand, he wrapped his free arm around her, holding her up as they walked together back to camp.


	3. Chapter 3

_So happy that you guys are enjoying this! It's actually inspired me to write some more of it so I guess it'll be longer than eleven chapters :D_

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"We can't stay here," Michonne's voice cut across the silence of the camp.

"Where the hell we gonna go?" Daryl said, looking as dejected as the others felt.

The camp stirred, each of them knowing they had nothing to offer up. D.C. wasn't an option anymore, it held no more hope than the backwoods of Georgia that they were currently taking refuge in.

After a minute Carol shifted from her leaning position against a tree trunk, moving, slowly, towards the group. They still forced her to take the painkillers at night, but during the day she put all her effort towards keeping limber and biting down through the distress of her body. She surveyed them before her eyes settled on Noah, "That safe zone…in Alexandria? Could it accommodate all of us?"

The boy, who after a year of isolation in that godforsaken hell hole and losing his first real friend, had been thrown into their mix without even a second to settle, nodded slowly back at her.

"Then that's it, that's our next stop," she said decisively, her expression afflicted as she struggled to sit down among them. Glenn offered his arm out to her and she clamped down using him as leverage, and then gripped his hand in thanks once she was finally settled.

"That truck doesn't have much gas in it. Might get us a few more miles and that's it," Rick attested

"We'll have to foot it then, until we find more vehicles," Abraham grunted, already feeling more confident with even the tiniest glimpse of a plan underway.

"It'll be a slow walk," Tara added, casting Carol a small smile.

Carol shook her head, the idea of slowing them down not sitting well with her at all, "We'll map out a course. I'll stay back, just leave a gun and a water bottle and I'll meet up with you guys down the road. Probably only need a few more da—"

Daryl's head snapped so quickly towards her that even without uttering a sound he interrupted her. His eyes narrowed, "Stop." The usual lightness that surrounded that word was absent.

"We couldn't leave you behind, Carol. You'll be fine, we'll all help," Tyreese, who sat on the other side of her, put a warm hand her shoulder but her eyes were locked on Daryl's. Pain etched on his face as he glared at her. Abruptly he stood and stalked into the trees, muttering about trying to find some meat before they headed out, but they all knew it was a ruse.

A stiff sigh escaped from Carol before she braced herself to stand and attempted to walk after him as quickly as possible. She found him staring absently at the forest floor, meddling with a bolt as his crossbow lay at his feet.

"Why would you even say something like that?"

"Daryl, I didn't mean… I just don't want to drag everyone else down with me."

He whipped around to face her, "The hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I can barely move. I'm not going to make it out there on the road," she spoke softly even as her anger bubbled. Carol knew she couldn't blow up until he teetered back from the edge.

"You're gonna try, and whatever you can't do, I'll do for you," he was so matter of fact, as if he could take all her burdens on for himself.

"No, Daryl, you can't. You can't make me better. No amount of painkillers or rest or being carried around like a fucking child is going to make me better," Carol closed her eyes, drawing her hands across her face in frustration.

Daryl knew they weren't talking about her injuries anymore, and he reached a hand out to touch her but she jerked away from him. "Carol," he tried to soothe her.

"No," she repeated, "You can't fix me. I'll just burn you."

He waited. An ache to touch her spreading throughout his hands, and he fiddled with his bow to keep from reaching out to her again. Tears began to spill from her eyes as she wrapped her right arm protectively around her ribcage. How desperately he wanted to cradle her in his arms, but instead he just waited.

"I leave a blaze everywhere I go, searing everything I touch. Sophia burned up because I wasn't strong enough to protect her. I set Karen and David on fire, and all for what? So the prison could go up in flames? So we could lose our home? And Beth…if I hadn't ever landed in that fucking hospital she'd still be alive. Or even if I just didn't wake up, if you didn't have to trade for me too, she'd be here. And Lizzie…I-I had to…," she barely looked at him, the images of the Grove swarming around her. She reached out to steady herself, grabbing a fistful of his shirt, and the contact grounded her back to reality. The small, delicate hand slid up his neck to cradle his cheek, her eyes boring into his, "I already told you once that I can't lose you, too. But sooner or later…I'll just burn you."

"What happened with the girls?" he pushed, careful to keep his tone soft. He covered her hand with his, removing it from his face and placing it over his chest instead. Her eyes were wild, trying to compose herself and swim through the nightmare of memories to pick out the right ones that would explain to him the hell she was walking through ever since that day.

"We had found this perfect little haven in a pecan grove. It had everything, running water, gas, a food source. Tyreese and I, we got too comfortable. We kept imagining how easy and perfect it would be to just stay there. Live out our lives in peace, and raise the girls. We let our guard down…" she trailed off.

"You got overrun?" He asked, trying to complete the story so she wouldn't have to, the pain in her face and the wavering of her voice reflecting the grief and agony back into him.

She shook her head, "Told you it was worse than that."

He waited.

"I tried every which way I could to get Lizzie to understand walkers for what they were, and I tried to get Mika to toughen up. But…I guess it wasn't enough. Ty and I went out to pump water on the second morning and when we got back..."she faltered, took a deep sigh, and trudged forward, "When we got back, Mika was on the ground and Lizzie was holding a knife, her hands covered in blood…her little sister's blood. She killed her Daryl, so she could turn her into a walker and we would finally understand what she saw in them all along. She had the baby with her too and if we had been even one second later, just one, she would have tried to turn Judith too." She looked up at him then, trying to gage his reaction. The horror that she expected was present but there was something more. Daryl whispered her name and pressed his lips to her hairline, crushing her to his chest. She took the moment in, choosing to revel in his warmth and tenderness before revealing her final charge.

Carol stepped back, forcing him to look at her face, "We had to make a decision. I offered to take Lizzie, Ty offered to take Judith but we knew neither of us would survive. I had to protect Judith. So I took Lizzie out to a flower patch, told her we would pick wildflowers for Mika, to give to her when she woke up. I made Lizzie turn her back to me, and then I…" she swallowed hard, "and then I killed her. I shot her. In the back of the head. Like an executioner."

She waited for him to jump back, to expulse her like the devil, to wrench at the sick idea that he may have at one time loved her. She waited, but he didn't move away from her. His jaw was slack, as he stared openly, before moving his hands to touch her face. Gingerly he stroked her cheeks, before cradling the back of her head and drew her forehead to his.

"You should have never had to have done that," he breathed against her, shaky and thin as he cried for her, "But you did what was right, Carol. There wasn't anything else you could have done for Lizzie. You're so strong, so much stronger than the rest of us. None of us would have made it out alive from that. You saved Jude, and Tyreese and yourself. And then you saved all of us. You're not made from fire and brimstone, Carol. You can't burn me if you're the only thing that keeps me lit."

Her sobs ransacked her body. Forgoing any thought of how it would seem, Daryl kissed her forehead and her cheeks and her jaw. He kissed every part of her face that the tears traced. The lightness of his touches sweeping across her subdued the pain, even momentarily. Carol caught her breath as he laid a final brush of his lips to her temple.

"I need you," he confessed, "We still get to start over. Don't matter what happened. Just gotta keep one step ahead of it, right? We gotta keep movin' forward, but I can't-I won't-go on without you."

Curling her fingers around his as their hands laid against her face, she nodded, "I'm sorry."

"Don't need to apologize. Just need you to stay with me."

"I'm here," she whispered, "I'm still here."


	4. Chapter 4

_Thanks everyone for the immense love your showing this fic! So so so happy so many of you seem to be enjoying it :D_

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It was a very slow walk. They stuck close to the highway, hoping to miraculously fall upon some working vehicles but finding nothing but the endless bleak asphalt. Carol stuck to the back of the group. Sometimes she had to stop in order to try and catch even a semblance of a break. She never made a peep when those pauses were needed, deciding to just halt of her own accord and separate without any warning. Daryl had caught on after the second time that he had looked back to check on her to find her gone, and he had frantically backtracked, images of a silent walker gnawing on her face swimming in his head until he saw her leaning against the hood of a broken car or a tree trunk. From then on he made sure someone was trailing her, under the guise of guarding the rear of the group, but it was her behind that was being looked after.

Tyreese kept close to her the most, and it made her ache. She hadn't told him yet that Daryl knew about what they had gone through together. Carol felt like she owed it to him to at least let him know that their deal with the devil was out there now. It couldn't be their dirty little secret to be kept buried in a grave once they bit it. Letting it all out didn't leave her feeling as relieved as she had hoped. It didn't absolve her sins; she was still a murderer for all intents and purposes no matter how much love Daryl tried to pour into her wounds. The longer she kept it from Tyreese the more she felt that he was still a rope tying her to the gallows.

"Tyreese?" she said softly and the man looked at her with the same solemn eyes he wore since they left the Grove.

"You need to take a break?" he asked, already scanning the tree line for a good resting spot as he reached an arm across her shoulders to help guide her.

"No. I'm okay. I just wanted to tell you…" she let the words linger as she looked up at him, enamored by his ability to hold her up. They had come so far in the week and a half since she handed him her gun, allowing him to pull the lever as she expounded her confession. Karen's death would always be a block between them, but the happenings of the Grove was like a tattered leash binding them together.

"What is it?" he searched her.

"I…wanted to thank you for coming to the hospital. I know how hard that must have been for you, to get ready to go into battle. I'm sorry I put you through that," she lost her nerve, choking down another admission that would only serve to cause him strife. Still, she meant every word she had said. She had been surprised when Daryl had wheeled her straight to Tyreese and he was ready to receive her, pulling her weight to him and keeping her steady.

He grinned in that tender way that reached up and softened his eyes. When Daryl had stumbled into the church, the blood of Terminians still fresh on the floor and walls, his body drooping into a pew with an air of despondence flurrying around him, they expected the worst. Noah had to do his best to explain the situation, and he hadn't even known Carol's name at that point. Rick had immediately stepped up, saying he'd leave shortly after daybreak. Tyreese was the first to volunteer to go with him. They all owed Carol their lives, but some of them owed her a little more. Tyreese was well aware that he would have died a lonely man if Carol had never shown up on those train tracks. He had no doubt that he would have lost all three girls before giving up entirely and letting the walkers come for him. He would have lost all three instead of two.

Tyreese saw them in his dreams, and when they walked aimlessly down long stretches of highway, flanked by expanses of fields filled with wildflowers, he swore he could hear them laughing. Once, while the sun glared in the corner of his eye he thought he saw Mika running, with arms stretched wide, towards him. He knew Carol saw them too in the way she avoided the soft flowers that sprouted in the cracks of the roads, and every time she rummaged through her pack taking a second to run her finger down the spine of Tom Sawyer. But when Judith cooed and he held her, he knew it was worth something. For the rest of his life he would clutch to Judith like she was the breath of the Earth. As long as she was alive he could know in the depth of his bones that they did the right thing. If he died now at least he'd have something to cradle close to him and let go.

"Of course," he said, giving her good shoulder a light squeeze. The group halted in front of them as Daryl approached from the woods. He had run up ahead an hour ago to hunt and scout out if there was anything useful ahead. After consulting with Rick, Daryl was making his way back to them. Tyreese gave him a nod before shifting towards the group as they began walking again. It was like an unceremonious changing of the guard.

"Everything okay?" Daryl said, glancing over at Tyreese who had taken Judith from Sasha and was bouncing her up in the air.

Carol smiled reassuringly, "Yeah, we're good."

"I found a place for us to hole up for the night. It's a couple miles down the next road, but I think it'll be good. You'll like it," he said, pushing his water canteen into her hands so she'll drink from it.

"Why? What is it?" she said before taking a sip.

"You'll see. Just trust me," the corners of his lips pulled upwards.

They walked off the main highway, down a dirt path that led to a small town. There were a few stores that had been thoroughly picked through, a couple of houses too small to fit all of them, and at the end of the road there was a moderately sized library.

Her eyes beamed up at him, knowing that this was a gift to her. He took her hand in his, giving it a squeeze before leaving her outside with Judith, Eugene, Father Gabriel and Carl as the rest went in to clear it.

Fifteen minutes and six walkers later, they were settling into the cozy library. It had several rooms, including an upstairs area with arm chairs and desks to study. Carol immediately took Judith over to the children's section, laying her down on the carpet and encircling her with toys and puzzles to play with. She scoured the bookshelves picking out picture books and stacking them up while Judith cooed at a crocodile puppet. Carol landed on a pink and white book and slid it out slowly before clutching it to her chest.

"What's that one?" Daryl asked from above her. He had deposited his sack next to hers, leaning his crossbow against the Dr. Seuss section.

"_Eloise_. It was Sophia's favorite. She'd make me read this to her again and again and again. Sometimes five times a night…especially when Ed had been…" the unspoken words hung in the air and Carol inhaled sharply, "I used to tell her that one day we'd go to New York. We'd stay at the Plaza and eat hot pretzels while we went through Central Park and FAO Schwartz. It would just be me and her."

She walked over to Judith, gingerly sitting beside her. Judith stretched out towards her, attempting to crawl with the crocodile still clutched in her tiny fist. Daryl sat across from her, leaving Judith between them. He leaned forward grabbing the little one under her arms and swooped her up to settle into his lap. She flapped her arms happily.

"Bet Asskicker would like New York," he said, gently poking at her soft protruding belly, emitting a giggle from the baby.

Carol beamed, watching the two of them, before she opened the book and started reading. Judith would excitedly grab at the pictures when Carol showed them to her, and would scream with delight when Carol used silly voices for Eloise and Nanny. Daryl had even chuckled a few times at her loony enthusiasm.

"Hey," Glenn's voice interrupted, "Rosita said the ducks are almost done cooking." He was clutching a copy of _Ubik_.

"Ain't we got enough sci-fi shit in our lives?" Daryl scoffed at the novel, eyeing the woman with the weird head piece on the cover as he held Judith out for Glenn to take her.

"Not nearly enough. In fact, I haven't seen a robot yet. I was always hoping the end of the world would include A.I. in some form or the other," he said, bouncing Judith on his hip as she reached for the book in question.

Daryl turned to Carol, who was struggling to get up on her own thanks to her stiffened legs. He pulled her up gently, and held onto her after she had gotten her footing, letting his hands linger on her upper arms. Smirking, Glenn left the room with Judith, babbling incoherently at her.

"You were a good mom," he said to her.

"Daryl, it's fine. I'm fine. I was just being sentimental," she said, flustered by her previous unraveling.

Subconsciously rubbing his hands up and down her arms, Daryl looked at her and continued, "You loved Sophia, and she knew that. Not every kid gets to see that."

He hadn't known that love as a child, nor as an adult. He was still learning what it felt like, and every time he was starting to get comfortable with it something got ripped away leaving him another scar of a reminder that letting people in meant suffering the consequences. Daryl bit his cheek as he thought of the losses, and looking down at Carol, at the many times he almost lost her. Twice he thought he'd never see her again, and when that car struck her in Atlanta he was sure that all he'd have left of her was a cold, dead body. It wasn't a feeling he wanted to repeat.

Carol fathomed that he was thinking of his own mother's failings, or at least his perception of them. She reached up to the collar of his shirt, straightening it out before she pressed her fingers flat against his chest. His eyes were cast far away, lost in the reflection of his past. Carol gathered herself, before leaning up to whisper her thanks against his jaw before pressing her lips delicately to the corner of his mouth. It was the gentlest touch he could remember and yet it set his skin ablaze. She kept her eyes steady on his, to ensure that everything she had done was okay. When he looked back at her, faintly smiling, she let out a breath of relief and leaned her forehead against the crook of his neck, feeling the quick beat of his pulse against her temple.

"Foods gonna be gone if we don't hurry over," he said swallowing down a lump of panic that was beginning to form in his throat.

She moved away from him then, and letting her hand ghost across his shoulder before turning and walking towards the main lobby where the others were. Daryl ran his hand over his eyes and through his hair, watching as the distance grew between them. A deep, yearning need to keep that space as small as possible propelled him forward until his long, quick strides had them walking in tandem.


	5. Chapter 5

_This chapter is quite short, and a little different. Things shift a little bit from here on out, but this story is always taking me on unexpected twists and turns :D. Hope you all enjoy!_

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Windows lined the ceiling of the library wing, allowing beams of sunlight to slip in and prod their sleepy eyes awake. Carol, however, was wedged against the classics shelf, just out of the gleam's reach. Still, Daryl thought she was just as fetching in the shadows as the light. He couldn't help but watch her from his curled position a few feet away, wanting nothing more than to brush his fingers against the contours of her. Her wrist poked out of the sleeve from an outstretched arm beneath her head, and he could imagine she was reaching towards him. He wondered how the soft skin would feel beneath his lips.

Daryl groaned, rolling onto his back and digging his palm into his eyes. He swallowed down the yearning anxiety that built up in his belly and sored his throat. It was easier to deny how aware of her skin he was when they were safely tucked away in the prison. But out here—after they had lost so much and every day was a new threat to lose something again—he found it much harder to persuade his own ignorance.

So many barriers between them were already broken. In that moment when she appeared in the woods, like a cherished memory from better days, and he ran to capture her in his arms, he knew he could touch her freely. And he had. His hands and fingers found their comfort in her while they scouted around Atlanta—craving that physical reassurance that she wouldn't fade away again.

Daryl's need to touch her had gotten worse since then. The sound of tires screeching and metal cracking into bones played in his head when he looked at her, to remind him that it's always been so easy to lose her. It was the universe's favorite game to see how many different ways they could rip Carol away from him. He feared that one day he'd stop winning, the universe would get bored, pack away the game pieces and she'd be lost forever. So until then he wanted to feel her in every way possible; until he couldn't anymore.

"Hey," her voice was a whisper, sleepiness still evident in its cracks. The blue of her eyes brighter in the morning sun that had journeyed closer to her; a delicate smile idled lazily on her mouth. He wanted to kiss her. Not like he had in the woods, the gentle brushes of his lips against her face nothing more than an empathetic need to soothe her. Not like she had the day before, pressing her mouth to his jaw to keep him grounded in the here and the now, blocking the shadows of his past from drawing him away. What he wanted was to embrace her lips with his own, to push against her and probe at those dark crevices in his bones that screamed out the words he tried to bury there.

"Mornin'," his catlike stretches worked at the kinks in his joints and he sat up.

"You slept late," she said.

He scoffed, "Ain't no need to hunt. We still got some squirrels, plenty for breakfast."

She winced as she sat up but held up a hand quickly to stop him from scrambling over to her, "I'm okay. Just stiff."

His hands burned as he waited for her to struggle to her knees and, with the help of the bookshelf behind her stand, to her full height. Getting to his own feet he couldn't stop himself from at least clutching at her elbow, his thumb brushing over the dip of her joint.

"I'm going on a run with Maggie," she mumbled, her eyes darting away from him.

"What?" he shook his head, narrowing his eyes at her.

"Not anywhere far, just to some of the houses down the street. We want to pick through them and see if there's anything we can salvage."

"Why do _you_ have to go?"

"She asked me to," Carol explained.

"Can't she take Glenn?" he was on the edge of exasperation, his voice biting.

She looked at him defiantly. She wasn't asking his permission but rather serving him a kindness by considering his anxiety about not having her within his sights and decided to give him ample warning. His questioning of her wasn't going to be tolerated. "She needs space, Daryl. I'm sure she's a little tired of being around Glenn. Besides I need to get out there and stretch my legs, do more than just walk up and down these aisles and flip through books."

Daryl twitched, attempting to hide behind his usual bravado. Carol softened and laced her fingers between his, squeezing softly, "I'll be back in a little while."

"Carol," he called out to her retreating back as she moved to get her M-16.

She turned to face him. The words clawed out from his skeleton and Daryl gulped, treading around them and pushing them aside. "Stay safe," he choked out carefully, keeping back the unwanted declaration that threatened to slop out.

The smirk she offered pierced through him as she held up nine fingers in response, before strapping the rifle to her back and meeting Maggie at the main entrance. His tongue pushed around the words that jammed his mouth, tasting them as he swallowed them back down to the pit of his belly. First _I_, then _love_, then _you_.


	6. Chapter 6

_Thanks so much for guys for reading! So happy you're enjoying it :D_

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Daryl hadn't moved yet from his spot against the door. Even though Maggie and Carol had turned a corner and he no longer could see them he still waited there. A hand clapped against his shoulder with a firm grasp and he turned slightly, catching Rick in the corner of his eye.

"She's strong and she needs to stay that way. It's not gonna help her if we keep treating her like she's made of glass," the former sheriff advised.

Daryl drifted back to peering out the small window, "You know she's gonna push herself. Take on more than she can handle."

"She always has," Rick sighed, "But you sitting here worrying after her isn't going to do her any good."

"Ain't like I got much else to do," he grunted.

"That creek out back might have some fish in it. I was gonna take Carl over and try to catch some if you want to join us."

Daryl shrugged, "I don't want to step in on family bondin' time or whatever."

"You're family. We're heading out in fifteen," Rick gave the archer's shoulder a final reaffirming squeeze before leaving to get Judith from Sasha.

Leaning his head against the cool glass Daryl closed his eyes. A low growl escaped from his tightening chest and he turned to follow after Rick.

Maggie was silently leading the way up the side street. They picked their way around the debris that lay on the path and the few bodies that were scattered. There didn't seem to be a moving walker in sight though. With a quick nod of her head, Maggie indicated to Carol the first house they would work through and they approached the door together.

Stepping through the green door and quickly sweeping to be sure it was clear of walkers the two split up, Carol taking the upstairs bedrooms and Maggie beginning to rummage through the kitchen.

The throbbing in Carol's legs was manageable but a nuisance nonetheless and she was starting to rethink her decision to accompany Maggie. But when she had come to Carol the night before as they were all getting ready to sleep, and asked with such vigor, she just couldn't turn the younger woman down. Sitting down on the bed after finding nothing of worth to take from the room, Carol stretched her legs out. She rolled her ankles and rubbed against her sore thighs. Her hand shot up to her still bruised ribs when she bent over and hissed at the pain. "You only get one minute to wallow," she muttered to herself, "And then you keep moving."

A crash cut that minute down to twenty seconds as Carol launched herself off the bed, hastily grabbing up her rifle. She hustled down the stairs, ignoring the aches of her body, and found her way to the kitchen. Maggie hunched over a chair, gripping the back of it—her knuckles white. Behind her were the strewed pieces of a broken mug. Carol could see that there was a capitol B in a flowery purple script on one of the pieces.

Carol moved towards Maggie but kept a few paces between them. That was how she was coping, by keeping them all at arm's distance, snapping at anyone who got too close. Glenn was the only one who would ever brave to cross that line, much to Maggie's dismay. He couldn't handle giving her the type of space she wanted.

"I'm sorry, Carol," she said through tight teeth, her voice was level but strained, "It was selfish of me to ask you to come out here. You're still in pain."

"We all are," Carol eyed the antagonizing mug.

"It's just…you were the last person to see her. I mean really get a chance to be with her, and I wanted to know…what that was like for Beth," her green eyes finally met Carol's, thick streams of tears visible on her cheeks.

Carol strained to smile, and look lighter than the heavy weight Maggie just dumped on her shoulders. She couldn't tell Maggie the truth, not the whole truth. She couldn't talk about the immense relief that flooded Beth when she finally woke up in that hospital bed. Or the way she tenderly clung to Carol's body, mindful of her injuries and how they cried happily in each other's arms. She was sure Maggie would break if she mentioned that she had taken Beth's sweet face in her hands, laid her chapped lips to the young girls' forehead and told her that they were going to go home. She couldn't tell Maggie about her broken promises.

"I woke up and…she was right there. She had that big, bright smile on her face like she always did. When I told her that you were okay, that Daryl, Judith and everyone else were okay it only got bigger. She was happy. She was happy because she was right…she never gave up, always knew there was something to hope for," Carol couldn't keep looking at her, and broke their gaze as a pit grew in her stomach and worked its way up to lodge itself in her throat.

Maggie didn't say anything as her face crumpled and the tears dripped out. She covered her mouth as the sobs finally broke and the wailing that had been crawling through her skin from the moment Daryl presented her baby sister's limp body to her finally broke free. She was howling as the release devoured her. Staggering forward she grabbed fistfuls of Carol's blouse and fell into her. Carol let herself be crushed between Maggie and the wall, holding her tightly.

"I should have fought for her," Maggie cried against her shoulder, "B-but I let her go."

"You did what you could Maggie," Carol tried to comfort her.

"No, Carol, I didn't," she pulled away, looking at Carol wildly, "That's exactly the problem. I set off to Washington. I left her. Daryl told me she was still out there but I-I-I…" Maggie started to hyperventilate, clutching at her belly as her chest heaved rapidly.

Carol put her hands on Maggie's shoulder trying to steady her. She walked her backwards into the kitchen chair and made her sit. Maggie leaned forward and Carol rubbed her back urging her to breathe. Her breathing became steady even as she continued to cry.

"We can all try to blame ourselves Maggie. You, me, Daryl, Rick…we all had parts to play in this. No matter what we did or didn't do, we can't change what happened. We can't fight for her anymore, so now we just have to fight for whatever we have left. If we don't then whatever good we have left, it'll all just slip—" A clatter behind the front door stopped her. They seized. The door creaked open and the grumbling of voices carried through the house. Carol pushed Maggie back to the corner of the kitchen and she reached for her rifle that was leaning against the table. Maggie crouched on the floor, holding her gun while trying to stifle her crying with a hand over her mouth. Carol stood over her, ignoring the bite of the rifle against her bad shoulder. She took a deep breath.


	7. Chapter 7

_I'm so happy with the wonderful story has been getting, thank you all so much for sticking it to it and your encouraging words :D_

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"You're gonna want to go in more," Daryl grumbled, nodding his head to a deeper spot in the creek. Judith squirmed in his arms as the baby tried to fit fistfuls of his hair into her mouth.

"There any kind of animal you don't know how to catch?" Carl asked, begrudgingly moving deeper into the creek so the water splashed around his knees. He toted the handmade fishing line, made of shoelaces, a paper clip, and some ripped up pieces of colored paper, and tossed it into the water.

"Chupacabras," Rick chortled, gaining him a sharp look, followed quickly by a snort.

Carl sighed looking back to his father and Daryl, "Now we just wait?"

"For a little while," Rick said. Exasperated and bored Carl bobbed the line around.

"You really think Virginia's the answer?" Daryl asked after a quiet minute passed. Judith was gnawing at his hair and Rick rifled through the baby supply bag to find something for her teethe on. Picking out a blue plastic baby toy, Rick wiped it down on his shirt, which didn't do much considering how dirty he was, and handed it to the baby. She swapped Daryl's hair for the toy, gurgling happily at the new sensation.

"I don't know," Rick admitted, watching his daughter. If the teething was starting then keeping quiet was going to be an even bigger challenge for them. "It's a long way from here and…I just don't know how we're going to get there in one piece."

This is the part where Daryl was supposed to tell him that he'd figure it out, that they'd pull through because they always did, but instead Rick was met with a silent nod.

"Just doesn't seem like there's a lot of good places—or people—left. Sounds too much like a pipe dream," Daryl shifted Judith in his arms, smoothing her soft hairs away from her eyes. The baby yawned at the touch, bringing her head to his shoulder, her munching on the toy beginning to slow.

Rick reached out to touch the back of her head as she closed her eyes. "Nah," he shook his head, "Just look at what we've got here. There's gonna be others like us, there's got to be."

"Carol said somethin', back when we were in Atlanta, and when she said it I brushed it off but I'm startin' to think she was right," Daryl said, rocking Judith until her hand fell to the side, letting go of the toy.

Rick bent down to pick it up, keeping it in his back pocket in case she woke up in a fit, "What's that?"

"She said we don't get to save people anymore."

Rick balked, "Carol said that? Carol Peletier?"

Daryl narrowed his eyes at Rick before the former sheriff continued, "She said that after what she had just done? After she saved my child, both my children…all of us?"

"It ain't like that for her. She just sees that she did what she had to, doesn't think she's a hero," Daryl shrugged, speaking quietly as to not wake Judith. "I thought she was out of her mind too…but that's when I thought we'd get Beth back. I couldn't even save her and we had her. I touched her and then…she was just gone."

Rick's smile dissipated, and he looked weightier than he had a minute ago. "We all did—me, you, Carol…we all had her right there in our hands and she just slipped right through."

"I just keep playin' it again and again in my head. The hell she grab those scissors for? Why'd she even try to…I just I wish I had done something—anything…I could have stopped her," Daryl wore his guilt plainly.

"I used to do that with Sophia. Since the day she went missing but even after the barn…I just kept trying to figure out why she left those brambles…why I even told her to stay there in the first place. I still think about it sometimes but I can't change it. Neither can you," Rick ran a hand through his hair, the memories of the vanishing little girl still fresh in his mind. Some ghosts never leave.

Daryl nervously bit at his inner cheek, "I just thought if we found Beth, we could make up for that whole mess."

Judith squirmed in Daryl's arms and he held her a little tighter, looking down at her to make sure she was okay. She settled; a soft gurgling emitting from her.

"Before we left the prison Carl and I had found Judith's car seat. It was bloody man, just a mess. I thought without a doubt she was dead. And then here comes Carol, like a…I don't know like a damn guardian angel out of those woods and not only did she save all our asses but she brought my little girl back. We might not have been able to save Beth, and we never saved Sophia…but Carol saved us and she and Tyreese saved this baby. My baby. Carol gave me something that I could never give to her. That counts for something. That's the good out of this whole shit mess we're in," Rick swallowed and wiping the back of his hand at his eyes to edge away the tears. Daryl stepped closer to his friend, and Rick lay on a hand on his daughter's back, rubbing her tiny body.

"She went through a lot," Daryl grumbled, the eerie image that Carol had painted for him of what happened between her and Tyreese and the girls floating through his mind. Maybe it was better if Rick never knew exactly how far she went to keep Judith safe.

"I was such an idiot when I sent her off. Maybe the whole prison wouldn't be gone now if I hadn't," Rick lamented more so to himself but Daryl grunted disapprovingly.

"Carol might have been dead. I don't like that you did that, not one bit Rick, but if you hadn't…things might not have turned out this way. We might not even have been this lucky."

"We got her back though, didn't we?" Rick said, still gazing tenderly at his little miracle baby. He reached out to take her almost sleeping form from Daryl, tucking the sweet girl under his chin and kissing the crown of her head.

"Yeah, I did," Daryl uttered beneath his breath, looking back in the direction of the library. The changed pronoun didn't go unnoticed.

"Mama?"

Carol stilled. The voice of a young girl filled the room more so than any tiny voice should.

"Will we be safe here?" another high-pitched tremulous voice swooped into Carol's ears and she felt immobilized. The pitter patter of feet grew closer but neither Carol nor Maggie made any turn to move. The girl, no older than ten appeared at the perimeter of the kitchen, a mirage in the hopeless fog. Her brown eyes bulged when she saw the two women and she let out a shriek as she called out, "Mama! Mommy! Mama!"

Carol still kept a tight grip on the weapon, but she lowered the rifle. Maggie slowly stood, gripping the countertop to help her up. Two women, roughly around Carol's age came running in, along with a teenaged girl. One of the women, clad in a ratted red hoodie, grabbed the child and drew her behind them.

"Please," her shaky voice edged, "Don't hurt our children."

Wandering out of her daze, Carol set the rifle against the table, "I won't. I'm sorry, we were just startled." She glanced back at Maggie, nodding her head to the counter and Maggie slowly placed her pistol down.

The two groups of women stood in a deadlock as they eyed each other. Neither party looked very good, bruises and cuts peppering their skin. But the women and their children looked worn out and thinned. Carol noticed they didn't have a weapon between them.

"Name's Heather," the hoodied woman finally spoke, "This is my wife, Alexis and our daughters, Jane," She broke away from the tight huddle the family had been in, allowing Carol and Maggie to see the teen girl with long blonde hair frayed in every direction around her head, "and Mia." The little girl walked towards Carol and held her hand out.

Freckles splattered across the girl's nose and her eyes were set in wonder. She held her small hand out to shake Carol's. She took it and the felt the frail, tiny bones, "I'm Carol. This is my friend Maggie." Maggie nodded at them, biting her bottom lip and keeping her eyes off of the teenager. The room felt crowded with the presence of too many apparitions squeezing against them.

Feeling the tension ease slightly, shoulders visibly relaxing, Alexis asked, "Are you two alone?"

"No," Maggie answered immediately.

Carol looked at her, understanding her need to always be wary; the potential threat of others being close by a warning to the strangers.

"Are you?" Carol returned the question.

Alexis nodded, "We were with a group, too. It was four families, plus a few others. We've been together since almost the beginning but we got raided a week or two ago. Most of our camp was killed and whoever was still around...we're lucky enough to even have each other." Heather moved closer to her wife, fitting her hand in hers.

"We haven't had a minute to settle since then," Alexis added.

"I don't know how but we've managed to keep ahead of them so far," Heather sighed.

"We're fast!" Mia added, "And Jane's good with a slingshot! She can poke all the baddie's eyes out with a pebble!" the older girl shot her younger a sister a look before rolling her eyes exaggeratedly.

"Seems like you've had it rough," Carol said.

Alexis scoffed at her, smiling, "You two don't look much better."

"Yeah," Carol smiled a little as she looked down at herself. The grey-blue sweater was ripped and tattered, her cargoes had bloodstains. "We've had a bit of bad luck, too."

"But, you look prepared," Heather pointed to their weapons. "That's what we've been trying to get our hands on. Went through these houses to find something, anything that we could use but we've been turning up empty."

On the floor beside her feet, Mia was trying to place the mug together. "It's like a puzzle! What do you think the B stands for? Maybe for Baby, or Beautiful," she exclaimed happily as Jane got down to help her. Without glue the pieces fell apart again. Marveling at the child's playfulness, Carol felt the cold steel of her revolver sitting against her stomach. She pulled the gun from her waistband, the familiarity and ease of her grip around it unsettling in its own way. It's a good weapon but it echoes every time she fires.

"Take it," she offered and Heather shook her head.

"No," Heather waved her hand pushing the gun away, "We couldn't take that from you."

"We have more," Carol insisted, "You need this more than I do. You've got little ones to protect."

Hesitantly, Heather wrapped her hand around the gun. Carol felt the weight lift as Heather took it from her, testing the balance of it. "Thank you," she whispered. Heather started to paw at her eyes, droplets of tears catching on the back of her hand, "It's just…I was starting to believe that good people didn't exist anymore. I wasn't sure if the fight was still worth it, because what kind of world would I be bringing my children into?"

Carol grabbed up her rifle from the table, before turning it over to Alexis as well. She took it without question.

"That group, they aren't far behind us. If I were you, I'd move out of this area—and quick," Alexis warned, strapping the rifle to her back.

She glanced back at Maggie, who had remained silent, eyes locked on a point beyond the wall. Looking back at the small but in tact family Carol offered them a final smile before putting the extra bullet casing on the table and leaving the room. Maggie hurried out of the house after, holding tight to her pistol, and took in a deep gulp of air once they were beyond the threshold.

"Why'd you do that?" Maggie asked as they walked back towards the library.

"They needed it. We didn't."

"We don't have an unlimited armory, Carol."

"I know, but we'll find more weapons."

Maggie looked over her shoulder at the house before they turned the corner, "You probably saved those children."

"Maybe," she admitted, pulling the knife from her hip holster.

Carol stepped out to the back of the library, leaving Maggie inside as she kissed and held Glenn. A mixture of shock and relief had flooded him when Maggie threw her arms around him, whispering in his ear. It was the first happy embrace they had shared, and even pulled a warm feeling from within Carol as she smiled at the two before continuing to the creek.

Rick was cradling Judith, careful to keep his beard from tickling her awake, while Daryl was knee deep in the water with Carl. He held up a small net of fish to Carl, who took it, startling slightly at the flapping fish inside. Daryl almost chuckled, tipping the boy's hat back onto his head as he splashed out of the water. He caught her sight then and followed Carl. She looked buoyant, airy even as Rick walked over to her, and she gazed tenderly at the sleeping form in his arms.

"Where are your guns? What happened?" Daryl circled her, checking for fresh blood and bruises.

"I gave them away," she said half-heartedly, paying more attention to Judith as she scrunched her nose in a dream.

"What?" Daryl blinked at her.

"We ran into a family, and they didn't have any so I gave them what I could. But, listen," she tore her eyes from the baby, looking seriously now at the two men, "They let us know about a group that's rolling in soon. We should get out of here at first light."

"Who told you this? I don't know if we should be listening to some strangers," Rick pressed her, but the resolve in her face was unfaltering.

"I'll tell the others," Carl decided, walking into the library before his father or anyone could tell him otherwise. Rick's frustrated sigh stirred Judith and she squirmed. "Hey, hey, come on Judebug," he tried to soothe her before she started wailing, her puckering face a sure sign for an oncoming meltdown.

"Here," Carol offered, holding her hands out for the baby so Rick could go after Carl and try to add some order to what was sure to be a disgruntled group inside. She bounced Judith on her hip and let the baby wrap a hand around her index finger.

"Is that all that happened out there?" Daryl asked, rubbing Judith's back, letting his fingers trail onto Carol's forearm.

"Maggie asked me out there because she wanted to know about Beth. She needed to know what her last moments were like but I just couldn't tell her the whole truth."

They caught each other's eyes and the soft squeeze he gave to her bicep was enough to let her know he understood.

"I was wondering," she said quietly, "Does your offer still stand?"

"What offer?"

"To start over?"

Daryl bit at his inner cheek, nodding slowly. It seemed like a tremendous density escaped her as she exhaled. He kept his hand on her arm, rubbing lightly. "That why you gave away your weapons?"

"There were some things I was ready to bury," her eyes trailed slowly up his body until they met his, "And maybe there are some things that I'm ready to let surface."

A warming anxiety sprang up from his belly, the type of nervousness that usually forced him backwards. He swallowed, forcing the burning to slip back down his throat as he leaned forward, careful to not squish Judith as she became wedged between them, and brushed his lips against her forehead. She pressed her forehead against the surprising softness of his mouth. A giggle of delight from Judith sprang them apart. Her eyes danced as she reached out, hooking her hand around Daryl's nose while her other hand patted against Carol's cheek.

The infectious joy of the baby filled them, and Carol leaned forward to kiss at her temple. Together, they rejoined the group in the library, his hand against the small of Carol's back as they braced themselves for the chaos inside.


	8. Chapter 8

_Thank you sososo much for all the reviews, follows and favorites! You guys are amazing and I'm so happy you're still enjoying this story! Hope you like this next chapter!_

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Sometimes Carol felt like the only constant she could count on was the woods. Crinkling leaves and pine needles below their stirring bodies as the dying fire crackles down to a low glow while they huddle close around it for warmth; comfort barriers cast aside. She was wedged between Daryl and Rick, her legs curled up into the crook of Rick's back as Daryl was pressed up behind her. They had arranged themselves depending on who ran hot and cold.

"Hey," Tara whispered, nudging Rick's shoulder. They exchanged places, Rick going to take over watch after giving a comforting rub to Tara's back, and she laying down in the rut of ground that he had previously occupied.

Carol shuddered from the loss of heat as Tara took up a smaller space than Rick, and was also moving farther away trying to bring her body heat to Carl as he shivered in Michonne's arms. A stiff, slashing air moved against her in the space.

"Cold?" Daryl murmured to her hair. Her shivers were answer enough. Beneath her she felt his hand prodding around her waist and so Carol shifted so his arm could slither under her. He wrapped this lower arm up and around her, pulling her close until she was flush against him. The upper half of his body leaned over her, and his warm, calloused hand traveled down her shoulder and the length of her arm before he came to stop over her own sullied fingers. She was essentially wrapped in a Daryl blanket. It was still cold, but the bite was gone from the nipping air as she settled into him.

There was always a safety in Daryl that never faltered—another constant in her tumultuous world. At one time she certainly did depend on him to feed her, protect her, keep her alive, but a lot had changed since then. She thought back to a night from that long ago winter which chilled her even more than the dropping temperatures.

They had found a house, much unlike their current circumstance, and with the kind of exhaustion that weighs down every joint and bone Carol had wandered into a bedroom without thinking. A name painted across a green and white polka dotted plaque finally caught her attention—_Serena_. A clutter of Barbie dolls, Hello Kitties and softball equipment was spread around the room. Her hand ghosted across the soft yellow comforter, a well-loved and ragged white polar bear sat upon a pillow boring into her. She willed the tears not to break as she grabbed up the bear in a chokehold. The pit of grief that hollowed her belly filled with anger.

Daryl had appeared in the doorway just before the offending toy lost its head. One sweeping glance at the room caused his expression to falter and he nodded his head for Carol to follow. She dropped the bear and he landed face down at the foot of the canopy bed. Daryl led her to a room down the hall, plain as any room could be. That night they slept with their backs to each other but it was familiar. Comforting.

It was just a better night's rest with him around. She dozed through the morning much longer than she had meant to, missing the pre-dawn stirs and quiet consultations of what they would eat and where they would go. He had a knack for lulling her in that way.

When she woke she found she was bound tightly by his jacket. It was warmer in the daylight, but with fall fast approaching, he really shouldn't be running around with no sleeves on. Shrugging the jacket on fully (it was a shame to just leave it lying around) Carol walked over to where Daryl and Sasha were contemplating a roll of fabric from Sasha's pack.

"We haven't really changed your bandages in a while," Daryl said, suppressing smile as he took in her particular piece of attire.

"It's fine," Carol waved him away, "We should keep that for darning. Come winter we won't want to be running around with holes in our clothes."

"Daryl's the only one with holes. Man's like a damn patchwork quilt," Sasha pointed.

Carol couldn't argue with that and she let Daryl lead her to a stream, the bundle of cloth in hand.

Tucked away by a covering of underbrush and thick pines the spot was tranquil. She saw Michonne and Tyreese a little further down, bathing Judith. They gave Carol a smile and she waved at them. They chattered incoherently at Judith, pointing at Carol and Daryl but the baby was much more interested in the leaf Tyreese was using to capture water for her bath.

"C'mon," Daryl instructed for Carol to sit on a small boulder and lift her shirt up. He grimaced at the filth covered bandage. "Definitely been too long," he commented, walking off closer to the stream. He dipped an empty can of peas into it, filling it with water. Carol removed her shirt completely, tossing it to the dirt in front of her. Daryl sat on a neighboring boulder so he was level with her and began to unwrap the bandages from her midsection. The bruising had softened to a muted mixture of yellows and purples, and the cuts were healing. Ripping one end of the cloth off and dabbing it into the can, Daryl gently swiped at the cuts. He was careful, picking at the pieces of old bandage that had infused with the healing skin. "Sorry," he mumbled softly when she took in a sharp inhale at a piece of skin he pulled.

He continued to wash her scratched ribs, eventually bringing the damp cloth to her back. Rubbing in slow, cautious circles he watched as her eyes closed and her shoulders relaxed a little. Noticing that Tyreese and Michonne had left with Judith, he moved a little closer to her. He dipped the cloth back into the water, ringing it out before placing it to her slight shoulder, and dragging it down the length of her arm. He worked at the dirt on her long fingers. Feeling him stall, Carol opened her eyes, tilting her head to face him. His eyes darted away from her, and she could see the red of his neck. Looking down she realized water was dripping down her cleavage as he kept the cloth hovering above her chest.

Instead of scrambling for a shirt, Carol reached her hand out, running it through his sweat soaked hair. "You should let me cut your hair someday," she spoke softly, not wanting to startle him.

Catlike in the way he pushed his head against her palm, Daryl finally met her gaze, "I probably should."

She smiled at him, bringing her hand to rest on his cheek as her thumb brushed the scruff at his jaw. Forgetting the cloth in his hand as he closed his eyes in comfort, the wet material dropped to her lap and Daryl's hand brushed against the skin between her collar and her breast. A pink tinge escaped from her cheeks all the way down to color the spot that Daryl's hand lay upon.

"Shit!" he yelped, jumping up and knocking over the can of water in his hurried attempt to take his hand off her. She stared at him wide eyed, the beginnings of a smile threatening to stretch across her mouth and she pursed her lips to hold back the expression. Daryl mouthed a silent string of curses behind his hands which he brought up to shield his ever deepening blush. He kicked the can aside before sitting back down, and snatching up the long strip of cloth that waited to be wrapped around her.

"Lemme just…" flurried and tongue tied he swaddled her injuries without another word. His hands moved deftly as he tied it off with a quick knot and gave a friendly pat to her back before he got up and moved to the tree line.

"Daryl!" she called after him, "Forgetting something?" He turned slowly, and of course she was standing, still shirtless. Her long, lean torso dazzled beneath the morning sun. With a single finger hooked to the collar of his jacket she held it out to him. Concerting a great deal of self-control he snatched up the jacket, shoving his arms into it and faced the trees again. She shook the dirt and leaves off her shirt, finally pulling it on and walked passed him. He didn't miss the teasing smile she tossed over her shoulder.

It seemed that they had impeccable timing, walking back into camp just as Rick, Abraham and Rosita had. They had been off for most of the morning scouting for new vehicles to continue onto Virginia with. Instead, Abraham explained, they found a group of survivors.

"They've offered us a place to sleep for the night, and a good meal. They've got plumbing, so we might be able to wash up too," Rick looked as close to gleeful as he could muster. It would be good for them to not spend another night in the dirt.

"How many of them are there?" Daryl asked, counting up his remaining bolts.

"Eight. They're students. And honestly, I don't think they've been out and about much since this whole thing began. If things go bad, we'll be able to take them."

The two men exchanged a look with Carol and she shrugged her shoulders. "If you say they check out, then I trust you," she said to Rick, grabbing up the Beretta Michonne had found for her the day before.

She looked to Michonne, who was slipping her katana back into its sheath, "Warm food and warm sleep is all I'm after. So where are these students anyway?"

"In a gallery," Rick said, smiling slightly at her, "Called the Museum of Art and Splendor."


	9. Chapter 9

_I'm very excited for these next few chapters (and nervous!) so I hope you're enjoying it so far! :) I really do appreciate everyone sticking with this slower than slow burn out with me! You're all lovely and wonderful._

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It was actually called the Duplin County Modern Art Gallery but the gold plated sign had been scratched out by the blunt end of a knife. Above it in black and silver splatters its new title was adorned: _The Museum of Art and Splendor_.

The once pristine building was covered in dirt and overgrown grass making it feel like they'd stumbled upon some tucked away treasure. Inside, however, it was clear that the group of artists had taken a lot of care to keep it clean. The walls were tiled with white slabs of marble interspersed by stretches of grey concrete. Black birch wood lined the floor. It looked incredibly untouched, as if the world outside of this gallery was exactly as it had always been.

The centerpiece of the main lobby was a large glass blown chandelier that sent splashes of color sparkling across the room as the sun refracted through the high windows. Carol wondered how in the world they kept it so clean considering there was only a light film of dust over it.

"How'd you guys get here?" Carol asked of Louise, one of their gracious hosts, as she walked with her and Michonne around the gallery. There were four expansive display rooms filled with canvases, sculptures and photography. A second floor was redesigned as sleeping quarters, bed rolls and mattresses spread out for their group to lay on. The gallery was lucky enough to have a generator which allowed them to hook up hotplates and create a makeshift kitchenette.

"We were on a retreat with our art professor. It was just supposed to be for a week. They had lectures and technique classes scheduled for us here at the gallery. At the end of the week they were going to display our art but the world ended before the week had," she chuckled softly, pushing the black framed glasses further up her nose with her index finger.

"Most of us left, including our art professor and the gallery curator. Those of us that stayed just tried to make a living here," she continued.

"I'm just surprised you've managed to hold onto this place since the beginning," Michonne commented, tearing her eyes away from an imitation Pollock.

Louise nodded, "We've been incredibly lucky. But, most people don't come into an art gallery looking for supplies. The only weapons we have are heavy busts of long dead faces."

"Occasionally we will get the stragglers, like you, who just need a bit of rest," A young man interjected. He was tall and lean, a tone of muscle hinted in the dark skin that peaked out from beneath his flannel button up. "Isiah," he held out a hand to Carol who shook it.

"You're not worried about _stragglers_ like us trying to take over?" Michonne asked, sweeping over the man with a cagey eye.

His smile, as dashing at the rest of him, wasn't faltered by her distrust, "We've had good judgment so far. Be a shame for you to sully our record." He turned quickly then, pointing to a painting at the end of the room, "Did you see the Dijiou? It was the last piece the curator added."

"Dijiou?" Michonne perked up, striding purposefully towards the painting. "I had gone to a showcase of hers. She had a lot of talent, some big dealers were looking at her stuff."

"Were you involved in the art world?" Louise asked from behind her.

"I was a curator myself, before my son was born. And after that I mostly did private consulting for buyers and dealers," her fingers brushed against the canvas, a smile fading from her eyes.

"I didn't know that," Carol said, resting a hand on Michonne's shoulder. The small group moved on to the next room, Louise and Isiah continuing their tour.

Daryl came to stand at the Dijiou painting, puzzled at its nonsensicalness. Judith could scribble something just like it, but he was sure they wouldn't be framing that to hang up on their shiny white walls.

"Neat, isn't it?" Daryl turned to see another of the art group, this one named Adam. He was short and stocky, with brown hair that stuck up in every direction, like it had been cut with a blunt blade. Daryl scoffed, turning back to the painting, "Why the hell would you stay in a damn gallery?"

"I like to look at beautiful things," he said matter-of-factly. The corners of Adam's lips were upturned so he always had a ridiculous happy-go-lucky look on his face.

"Beauty isn't valuable," Daryl replied sternly. "Weapons, food, shelter. That's the kind of stuff ya'll need. Surrounding yourself with all this crap…it's not worth it."

Adam shrugged, "Yet I see you've surrounded yourself with some pretty things." Daryl followed the man's gaze as he looked over to Carol and Michonne who were walking around a twisted piece of iron behind a rope.

Physical beauty wasn't something Daryl had really concerned himself with. People were animals and bodies were just what they were—bodies. There wasn't anything special about a size 2 waist or a particularly long set of legs. He could appreciate that sort of thing but he never cared for how women looked. He liked how they felt. Most of them didn't feel right at all though and so he shirked away from most of the bar honeys (as Merle insisted on calling them) that hung around his friends and brother.

He thought all the women he had met since the turn were beautiful, Carol among them with her delicate face and slender figure. It had tripped him that morning to see her lean torso, the strong muscles beneath the soft skin that outlined her belly and arms. He hated looking in her eyes sometimes because the blue was so bright and bewildering.

More so he liked the way she felt; like calmness and certainty. He didn't doubt himself when he was around her, and his natural hostility and need for compression eased away over time. She felt like freedom.

"They ain't no damn objects," he warned, huffing as he walked off.

"Where are you from, Carol?" Isiah asked as she lingered at a photograph of a woman whose face was half covered by a shadow creating sharp contours in her bone structure.

"We've been traveling from Atlanta," she began but Isiah shook his head.

"No, I don't mean your apocalyptic journey. Before that…tell me about the woman who is so fascinated by this photograph."

"I don't know much about her anymore," she said, her voice constricted as she leaned against the wall becoming level with the photograph.

Isiah studied her, "Let me guess then. You're smart and caring, something that would make a great teacher. I'm sensing high school. English or History. Never married, but your apartment was art deco with lots of coffee table books. You had a glass of wine with dinner every night and listened to Coltrane on vinyl while you danced around barefoot. The downstairs neighbors hated that."

A bewildered grin crept across her face and she shook her head.

"I get any of that right?" he laughed.

"Not even close."

That dashing grin appeared again as he placed his hand on the wall just above her head. She evaded his pose as he leaned closer, side-stepping and then walking around him. He sighed with a soft chuckle before shouting out to her, "Just give me some time, Carol. I'll have you figured out!"

"Doubt it," she muttered to herself, glad he couldn't see her vigorous eye roll.

Isiah caught up to Carol as she rejoined Michonne. He led them past the archives and they came to the last room, a small plaque above the doorway naming it the Mabel Ann Room. Isiah opened the door, "This is where we keep new art."

Inside were paintings of monsters and death. Half eaten, slashed up faces and walkers crawling in every which way. The loss of souls were depicted as people being ripped apart.

"It's how we deal with it. A true artists calling never withers," Isiah sighed. She felt queasy, the childish faces of some of the drawn walkers overwhelming her. Michonne's face had set to stone and she turned her back on the room and walked out.

"I'm sorry," Isiah called after her, "I didn't mean to upset you both. I just thought with your appreciation of the craft you'd like to see that we're still continuing it."

Carol held him back, letting Michonne get the space she needed. "Maybe because you haven't traveled more than a few miles for supplies you don't understand. This world is cruel. It's not the kind of place you want to preserve."

Isiah kept his apology at bay and Carol offered him a small smile to soften his bruised ego. She didn't want to upset their hosts, especially when a hot soup and padded bedding were waiting for her achy bones. She let him lead her back to the lobby.

Daryl was staring at a Polke painting when she found him. Bumping his shoulder with her own she stood next to him.

"You okay?" she asked softly noticing his disgruntled look as his eyes shifted across the painting and his lips curled.

He shrugged, looking at her, "I'm just not used to places like this. People like them."

"They're not so bad. Snobby, but I think their bark is worse than their bite," she smiled at him but Daryl hadn't noticed. He was back to contemplating the lines and blips of color.

"I don't see what you see when I look at this shit. I don't see anything beautiful, it looks like some drunk just made a bunch of random shapes and shit," he threw his hands up, defeated.

"That's probably a pretty accurate description for most of these," Carol turned to stand in between him and the painting, holding onto his arm and forcing him to look at her, "But, Daryl, that doesn't mean anything about you if you don't get something out of these. Sure, Michonne and I like this stuff but even I don't understand half of it. It's just about finding certain ones that make you feel something. Sometimes it's happiness. Contentment. Sometimes it makes me think of things I'd rather not. It's just nice to feel something other than the push to survive."

"But I want to understand it…for you," he looked away, studying the painting one last time.

She let her arms fall to her side, "You already know me. Said so yourself." She gave him a genuine smile but he looked so earnest that she suggested finding a piece and talking it out. Her eyes glanced around the room, looking for a painting she thought he'd might be interested in.

"Nah," he said, brushing his fingers absently against a tuft of hair that stuck out near her temple, "You do what you have to do. I'll be upstairs, checking in on the others." He trailed down her arm and their fingers lingered together before he left and went up the marbled staircase at the end of the lobby.


End file.
